


Guardian Angel

by Dammit_Jim



Series: Stargate Universe Oneshots [6]
Category: Stargate Universe
Genre: Alternate Universe - Wings, Angels, He can't remember, M/M, Mentions of suicide attempt, Wingfic, Young has wings, and is possibly an angel
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-09
Updated: 2016-09-09
Packaged: 2018-08-14 00:41:11
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,908
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7992214
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dammit_Jim/pseuds/Dammit_Jim
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>So angels are apparently real and Destiny's crew seems to have one of its own as a guardian.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Guardian Angel

**Author's Note:**

> This oneshot is a mess. I've been working on it off and on for a while and I still don't really like it but I have no idea how to fix it and didn't want to just throw it away so I hope you can forgive the fact that it's poorly written and really cliché. /: I also love how the rest of the crew just don't exist in this fic lmao...I'm so sorry about this mess. Hope you enjoy it despite that.

It was the pure whiteness of it that shocked him.

Destiny was old, and ill-kept, and falling apart in places; she was cold and worn and rusted metal and oil and grease. Everything onboard Destiny soaked it up in time. Food always had a copper taste to it - not that the food had tasted great beforehand - and clothes grew worn and gritty, quickly. So did the people. 

So, it was the warmth and the blinding light and the organicness of it that shocked Rush’s senses, at first that is, before his brain caught up and he actually realised what he was looking at. They were wings. Large, white wings. The wingspan was wide enough that the tips almost touched the walls on either side of them. But even then, the wings themselves weren’t the most shocking piece of information. It was what was attached to them, or rather who, that shocked him the most.

Destiny had been under attack, and the Colonel and himself had been across the ship looking at a damaged area when they’d been called to the bridge. They’d gone at a run, and then…then there was an explosion.

Now, he sat sprawled on the floor of some unused room, looking up at Colonel Young, who stood in the doorway - wings and bloody all - with his hands outstretched, holding back what looked like a wall of flame with nothing but sheer force of will. _Shit._

“ _Rush_ ,” the Colonel barked, “door!”

Rush gritted his teeth and scampered to his feet, slamming his palm down on the door panel. There was an unusual screeching whistle as the doors shut and the Colonel staggered backwards, breathing hard. Then, as if nothing was different, he took out his radio and called Eli, apprising him of their situation. The young man told them he couldn’t get them out any time soon. Although he reassured them that once they were back in FTL he’d start dealing with that problem, but _“now really isn’t the time!”_

Rush probably should have been worrying about Destiny, who was still shaking and shuddering under enemy fire, but there was nothing he could do about that. Eli had said the corridor beyond was still too dangerous, and there wasn’t a console in sight, anyway. Plus, he was too busy staring at the damn wings and trying not to have a complete mental breakdown. 

Young turned to him, saw his expression and looked away, giving an uneasy smile, “You must have questions.”

So at least he wasn’t hallucinating. That was a welcome surprise. “You think?” Rush growled.

Young didn’t offer him anything in return, seemingly too interested in checking on his outstretched wings, wincing as he did so. Now that the scientist could actually comprehend what he was seeing and study them, he noticed that they weren’t as white as he’d previously thought. They were a light grey, dappled with brown and darker grey but they still looked too soft and organic and clean and wrong on Destiny. They were also slightly singed in places. 

Rush finally drew his eyes away from the wings to question Young, when he discovered with surprise that the strange appendages weren’t the only change. The Colonel looked younger; he had less creases in his face and his eyes were less drawn. It should be impossible, and yet…

“I’m assuming you don’t know where to start?” Young asked.

“Good assumption,” he snapped back, and then after a moment he frowned. “Are you alien?”

Young shrugged, “I guess, maybe.”

“What do you mean, you guess?”

“Well, I’ve been called other things.”

“Angel?” Rush scoffed.

Young shrugged, and Rush shook his head. It wasn’t only just impossible, it was “Ridiculous.”

Young gave him an amused smile that was infuriating.

“There’s no such thing as angels,” Rush continued. Of course, if Young had to be one, he’d be a dull one. “Assuming you are…an angel,” He felt ridiculous saying that aloud, “why the bloody hell are you on a spaceship, then?”

“You already know that answer,” Young responded, frowning at him. “You dialled the Ninth Chevron.”

“So what, you’re still just…”

“Colonel Young.”

“But with wings, apparently.”

“Apparently.”

They grew silent and Rush was lost in his own thoughts of how and why and what the actual bloody hell? Then Young was wincing again, and Rush was pulled out of his own head once more.

“What is it?” he demanded, a little too forcibly.

Young had the audacity to look startled. He gestured to the wings, “Got a bit burnt, and I can’t really…” he trailed off, before shrugging, and then wincing, “make them disappear until they’re healed.”

Rush tilted his head. That wasn’t how matter worked. Something couldn’t just disappear; become seemingly invisible, sure, but not disappear. Plus, he knew for a fact, from there many fights, that there had not been any invisible appendages attached to the Colonel’s back. So, they had just…gone? But where? And why would pain have an effect on whether or not they could disappear?

“Rush?”

He blinked, and looked up.

“I know this is weird,” Young tried.

Rush rolled his eyes, “We live on a spaceship.”

Young laughed, “Okay, Genius.”

“So, how does it work?”

Young shrugged. “I’d explain it if I could,” he answered, sounding sincerely apologetic. “You deserve at least that…after the shock of it.”

Rush didn’t know why he felt the need to reassure Young, but before he could think it over the words were tumbling out of his mouth: “If nothing else I’m adaptable.”

Young’s smile widened a little in response, and then he fished out what looked like a flask from his cargo pants.

Rush raised an eyebrow.

“It’s not alcohol,” Young gave a short laugh, “just something to help them heal.” He undid the flask, and then frowned, before looking back at Rush. “I…uh…” he trailed off.

It took Rush a moment to understand what was wrong and then when he did, he grabbed the flask from him. “Give it here,” he snapped, rolling his eyes. He brought the flask to his nose and sniffed it but it had no definable smell.

“It’s holy water,” Young said, in answer to Rush’s confused look.

Rush gave him a look of exasperated disbelief.

“It works.”

Rush shook his head, before pouring a bit of water onto his hands. Young took the flask back as Rush stared at the wings spread out in front of him. He couldn’t quite believe what he was looking at, and he hesitated before spreading his hands across the feathers. He tried to do it gently but Young still winced. He couldn’t help feeling ridiculous as he worked. This was so bloody weird. He tried not to think of the appendages as being attached to Young, or at the very least he thought of it as patching up a soldier’s wound. He’d have done this if Young had a bullet wound, right? It was just like that…He was cleaning the wound. The wound just happened to be on a pair of wings.

Wings that were attached to Everett bloody Young. 

They were certainly real, though, and soft. He didn’t know what he’d expected, really. Maybe he thought they’d just disappear if he touched them? Like his mind would finally stop playing tricks on him? But they _were_ real; warm and twitching. They were very real, _fuck._ Young winced a lot, but as Rush worked he began to relax, and even began humming, obviously enjoying the preening. Rush found it oddly amusing.

But what was odder was that he enjoyed it too. He had the strangest urge to bury his hands into the plumage, and just enjoy their organic, gentle feel. He gritted his teeth through the feeling and renewed his efforts, seeking out singed feathers and rubbing the water into them with a scientific concentration. Young poured more water onto his hands when he needed it, and they continued like that, working in silence - except for the occasional humming - until Rush believed he’d got every bit.

“Good?”

Young blinked, as if waking from a daze and shook his wings out a little, before tilting his head, “Yeah, I can already feel them beginning to heal.” He smiled, “Thanks.”

Rush crossed his arms and rolled his eyes, “Well, it wasn’t like I had much of a choice. You couldn’t go out looking like that.”

Young seemed to consider this and shrugged, “I guess not.” Then he looked away, “So, you’re not going to tell anyone?”

Rush scoffed, “Like they’d believe me.”

Young nodded, and then silence descended upon them once again. 

Rush tried, desperately, to stop thinking of the wings as they waited. It would have been alright if his mind were plagued with theories and with scientific explanations but instead he couldn’t stop thinking of the wings themselves, beautiful and huge and alien and soft and so out of place here. His hands twitched at the memory of the feathers between his fingers, and he had to force himself not to reach out and touch them again, let alone stare.

It was about ten minutes later when the ship stopped shaking, and another ten minutes before Eli finally came back onto the radio. Rush looked up, and was surprised to find Young’s wings had gone and the tired look in his eyes had returned. He hadn’t exactly been watching Young closely but he’d have expected to have at least noticed the change.

“How we doing Eli?” Young asked.

“I vented the fire out to space and I’ve just finished re-establishing life support in that section, so you’re good to go!”

“Thanks, I’ll see you on the bridge for a de-briefing in five.”

They walked in silence and Rush wanted to ask Young more about his wings but he wasn’t sure how to broach the subject, and really he had more ~~important~~ immediate things to consider. He was sure Destiny hadn’t come out of that battle unscathed and he was going to have to deal with the repercussions of that sooner, rather than later. 

It didn’t occur to Rush until he’d met up with Eli and the science team that Young had saved his life. The wings had distracted him from that little heroic feat…unless…unless Young had only been trying to protect himself and Rush happened to just be in the right place at the right time. He hadn’t been, though. He’d been beside Young, and then he’d felt Young’s fist gripping his shirt and he’d gone flying into the safe confines of that unused room. 

Young had gone out of his way to save him.

 

Rush found himself lying awake at night; the thought of Young’s wings plaguing his mind. At least now those thoughts were mainly questions, though. He wanted to know more. He wanted to know where Young came from. He wanted to know how many others there were. He wanted to know if Young could fly. He wanted to know if there were any differences in strength or intelligence. He wanted to know how much he could push Young before he showed him that strength.

When he woke up he considered whether or not he’d dreamt the day before. The first thing he did was corner Young on his way to the Mess. One glance was all it took for him to determine it had indeed happened. As loathed as he was to call Young an “Angel” he wasn’t sure what else to call him. So when he broached the subject with the Colonel, that’s the word he used. 

“Angels aren’t invincible, then?” he asked, him.

Young gave a laugh, “Good morning to you, too.”

“You were burned.”

The Colonel shrugged, and then gave a hesitant nod, “Ah, yeah, they’re more invincible than me.”

“You’re different, then,” Rush said with curiosity. “Why? In what way?”

Young sighed and just before entering the Mess gave him a tired look, “I don’t really want to talk about it, Rush.”

Rush let him go but he wasn’t going to give up that easily. Later Young arrived in the Control Interface Room to check on the Science Team’s progress with fixing Destiny, and when he left Rush followed him.

“You’re ageing, though?”

Young sighed, “Yeah, kinda.”

“So angels aren’t immortal, then?”

“They are.”

“But you’re not?”

Young turned and fixed Rush with an exasperated look, “ _Rush_ , we can’t keep this up. I can’t explain everything to you, and frankly I don’t want to. You shouldn’t have to have seen that, and I’m sorry, and I understand that you deserve some kind of an explanation but…you can’t keep asking me questions like this. We can find a time, later, and I can explain…some of it.”

Rush glared, “Fine.” 

“Tonight?” Young asked, “After dinner, my quarters?”

Rush nodded.

He returned to the Control Interface Room, and pushed all of his questions to the back of his mind, focusing on the task in front of him. It wasn’t until much later that he began thinking about Young and his damn wings. It was something Eli said that made everything suddenly crystal clear. Rush was working on a malfunctioning console when Eli reminded him where _not_ to put the screwdriver. The incident Eli was referring to happened months ago. Rush had been working on a console on the bridge, when the device had short-circuited and he’d felt the electric current shoot through him. It should have killed him on the spot but he’d been lucky; he hadn’t even been burned at all. Eli had said he’d had a guardian angel. Rush gritted his teeth, remembering that the only other person that had been there was Young.

It wasn’t the only incident he remembered. There was that time they were on a planet and the floor gave way. No one had been with him and yet he’d woken up safe on the cliff’s edge. There was the Nakai ship rescue. Young had found him, and set him free. He hadn’t made a big deal about it so Rush hadn’t given it a second thought, but his finding him so quickly couldn’t have been a coincidence. Then, of course, there was the corridor incident that had happened just the day before. 

He and Young had fought countless times but he’d always survived it. Young had always backed off just in time, as if he knew what he was doing. He’d always been by Rush’s side, at first to monitor him, to seemingly protect the crew from him, but slowly it had become a more “help me help you” relationship. Young had always had a big interest in him, though, even if he’d hated him. He’d been willing to stay on Destiny with him, after all.

Then there was Destiny’s mission. Rush couldn’t help wondering if the intelligence Destiny had found at the beginning of time was the same that had planted Young in his life. What if he wasn’t meant to complete Destiny’s mission? What if it was Young’s mission to stop him? How much had Young manipulated? Were Rush’s choices even his own? Had he ever had free will?

Rush gritted his teeth. It looked like he might indeed have a damn guardian angel.

He tried not to go looking for Young whilst the shaking rage was running through his veins but by dinner time he was practically seeing red, and there were no signs of his anger receding. Young had obviously been anxious to get their conversation over and done with because when Rush arrived at his quarters early, and knocked, Young was there to greet him.

“Rush, I - ”

Rush slammed a palm on the door controls, before spinning on Young with fury. “How long did ya think it’d take for me to work it out!” he growled.

Young gave him an incredulous look, “I…don’t know what you’re talking about, Rush.”

“Are ye here to keep an eye on me? Am I really that important? Is it to keep me on the right track? To stop me from straying from my bloody pre-determined path or something?”

“No, Rush - ”

“Or is Destiny really as important as I think and you’re here to stop me from completing her mission?” Rush spat, “I don’t care who sent you - ”

Young took a step forward and slammed Rush up against the wall, “It’s not like that!”

Rush gritted his teeth, “Oh really?”

Young shook his head, “None of it is like that. There is no pre-determined path…not the kind that some higher being has designed. We all have our roles and those roles play out as they do, but God doesn’t have a hand in it, and I certainly don’t, either.”

Rush searched his face for any indication that what he was telling him was false. He still couldn’t read Young perfectly but the Colonel didn’t lie often, and probability stated that he was unlikely to be lying now. How would keeping his manipulation of Rush’s life - if he was indeed doing that - a secret, change anything?

“And I’m not here for you,” Young continued. “I’m _here_ because I’m a Colonel in the US Air Force, and _you_ dialled the Ninth Chevron.”

“You really think I’m going to believe-“

“I don’t care what you believe, Rush!” Young snapped. “I’m not here for you. You’re not the only one I’ve been watching out for. There’s TJ and Eli and Scott, and the rest of the damn crew. I’m the commanding officer here and it's my job to look after you all. If I happen to be using some abilities that the average human doesn’t possess then sue me!”

“The average human,” Rush scoffed.

Young’s face immediately blanched and he shrunk back, releasing his grip on Rush’s shirt. Rush frowned, because that wasn’t the reaction he was looking for; he’d wanted Young to get angry, to shout, to prove him right but instead he just looked defeated.

“You wanna know why I’m here, Rush?” Young asked. “I got curious, and my curiosity got me a permanent posting on the ground floor.”

Rush studied him for a moment, and then realisation dawned on him, “You…fell…”

Young gave a tired laugh, “Something like that. It doesn’t feel like falling, though, more like drowning. I’m not immortal and I’m not invincible because I’m not an angel, exactly; not anymore. I’m not human, though, either.” Young turned from Rush, running a hand over his face, “I’ll live longer, and survive a hell of a lot more than mortals can but…I’m not an angel.”

Rush grimaced, because he still didn’t understand Young’s distress. Yes, losing the power he once had might have been frustrating but at least he still retained some, at least he had enough to be more than human, to be better than human.

“That doesn’t sound _that_ bad,” Rush said, and it came across a little accusatory; a little jealous.

“It does when everyone around you grows old and dies and you’re left standing, alone.”

 _Oh._ Rush suddenly saw himself by Gloria’s death bed, saw himself crying as he cradled her hand to his chest. He saw himself weeks later, still standing, and alone. _Shit._

“I tried to give up once,” Young continued, gesturing to his head. “The bullet just left a dent, though, and now there’s not a scar or anything. But that was before.”

Rush gritted his teeth, because _shit_ , he didn’t know what to say to that. He thought he should say something reassuring, but instead his mind was supplying him with questions of invincibility and before he could stop himself he muttered, “And now?”

“I think a bullet to the head would probably kill me now…but now I’ve got something to live for. This crew.”

 _Fuck_ , Rush was way in over his head. He didn’t know how to deal with any of this. He’d gone to Young’s quarters looking for a fight, expecting a fight, and here he was just trying to smother the urge to rest a comforting hand on the Colonel’s shoulder…to ask to see those wings again.

Several moments later he found himself still staring at Young’s back. The Colonel turned to give him a questioning look and Rush took a deep breath, thinking: _Fuck it._

“Show me,” it was meant as a question but came out like a demand.

Young seemed to understand, though, and without saying anything he rolled his shoulders, and his wings unfolded. It was such a smooth transition Rush wasn’t sure how they could possibly have not been there to start with. 

He frowned and shook his head in disbelief. “Can you fly?”

Young gave him a look from over his shoulder, “I used to be able to.”

“Not anymore, though?”

“They’re becoming weaker and weaker. I guess a side effect from slowly becoming mortal.”

Rush reached out a hand and sunk it into the feathers. Young flinched but seemed to lean back into Rush’s touch. If Rush had thought about the situation more he might have realised that he was essentially doing the equivalent of running his hands through Young’s hair, or massaging his back or something equally intimate. The wings still felt oddly detached from Young, though, and Rush was too intrigued by them to stop running his fingers through their downy softness.

“Do you miss it?” he asked after a moment.

“Flying, or…?” Young trailed off. “Flying was enjoyable. It’s why I joined the Air Force, actually. When I couldn’t fly anymore…piloting seemed like the next best thing.” Young paused for a moment before shrugging, “Everything else, though?” he began. “My memories of that are…slowly fading away. There’s not really anything left to miss.”

Rush began following the wings to their base, where they connected with Young’s shoulders. There they seemed to merge into the fabric of his jacket, in a weird blur that hurt his eyes if he stared too long. He wondered what it would look like if Young took his uniform off, if there would be a distinct line between where the wings ended and where Young began. “Was it worth it?” he asked.

“I think so,” Young answered. Rush couldn’t have been sure but his voice sounded a little rough. “I remember how I felt and I felt useless. I knew I could be doing more.”

“Doing more than being an angel?”

Young laughed, “Well, I suppose maybe there wasn’t much we were allowed to do. I’m fairly certain we weren’t meant to interact with humanity…I think that’s why I fell.”

“You don’t even remember that?”

Young shrugged, again, “I remember hearing a boy crying.”

Rush was overwhelmed with the need to comfort Young, then. More so than last time. The intensity of it was so staggering that he had to take a step back. As soon as his hands left Young’s wings the Colonel turned to face him. There must have been something in Rush’s expression that gave him away because the next thing he knew Young was taking a step into his personal space, and cupping his face. Young’s eyes were smiling and kind and Rush could feel his breath on his lips, and finally he couldn’t take it anymore. He closed the gap between them, and pressed his lips to Young’s, and curled a hand into the man’s hair. He vaguely heard the flutter of feathers moving, and then, as Young trailed kisses down his throat, Rush saw the wings envelop them both.

**Author's Note:**

> This ended up being a hell of a lot longer than I intended it to, so whoops...and I still have a lot more planned for this universe so there will probably be a sequel, which will likely include wingporn as well as explanations for things mentioned in this part.


End file.
